This quiet sunday morning, on the back porch with dogs, sandwich and a male cardinal flitting from plum tree to persimmon tree, I am at peace.

But also oversaturated because of course I first had to read through facebook, the news, twitter and instagram. You know, just checking in on the world and my friends. I love seeing the vacation pictures, the affirmations of life, the snarky smart comment, the ridiculous. i get sucked into the political antics of baby-adults who are acting out their worst days of Jr. High. The mood flicks back and forth from love to lame, from rage to rofl, from depth to disbelief.

I am oversaturated.

I work best with a theme. You know, a catch phrase for the day. Outline my thoughts from invocation to final song, designed and curated. Yet everything comes from the screen at once: pythons, Bloom County, buzzfeed, celebrity outrage., birthdays, photos, meaningful memes. Where do I land to quell the intense distraction.

Back to my porch. My dog, Alfie, tells me like it is. He snuggles into one spot and then another. He scratches an itch, then sighs and sleeps. In a second he can be at full attention when the woodpile squirrel scoots into view, and he is his most loving when I'm eating my sandwich. Life is right now. When I leave, he waits by the door till I return. And in the peace of the porch, he is happy to just be his doggie self.

The cardinal is male, so the streaks in the sky are fire red, like a warning light, like a passion flame, like power and self possession. He is on a mission. He moves and sings. I watch and catch my breath at his flash.

My sandwich is a simple thing of hearty bread, yellow tomato, mayo, colbyjack, amish bologna. It brings me nourished contentment, and is always enough. It is enough to share with the dogs, to give away.

The porch is tattered and the paint job has seen better days. The table is a slice of tree and we can put our feet on it, tamp the pipe out on it, set a knife blade into it. It holds all of our backporch living.

In the background the cicadas buzz like white noise, melting away the tumult into a haze that lifts the dozen birdsongs to the ear, the plane overhead, the sighs of a pooch, the crumbs on the plate ...settling my heart, and now I am saturated by the day.